


The Promise

by BabyKay47



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4171554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyKay47/pseuds/BabyKay47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Claire's "What happens the night you come by...I'm already talking to someone else?" Matt makes a gamble to see if Claire will really keep her promise to always be there for him when he really needs her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise

She had tried to forget him. She justified leaving because she didn’t want to see him die. But she could only stay away for so long before she felt herself being pulled back. Even though she tried not to think about him, she found herself checking the news for stories about him, with his new moniker and his new suit. So she knew he wasn’t dead.

It was only a few weeks before she was back, though, in a new apartment a couple of blocks away from her hospital. She debated whether she should call him, let him know she was back, but she didn’t know that she could keep up her pretense that it was better for her to just be his night nurse. Not when she was already half in love with him already. So she didn’t call. And it seemed the suit was doing what it was supposed to do. She had been right, it seemed; a bit of body armor must have saved him from the worst of injuries. If he had really needed her, then he would have called because he had to know that she would be there for him, no matter where she was or what she was doing, she would be there for him.  Even though she felt relieved that he was no longer being injured so badly he needed her help, a part of her was disappointed too. But if he wasn’t getting hurt as much, then that meant he wasn’t dying either, and if he wasn’t trying to get himself killed, then why was she still keeping her distance? But she couldn’t allow herself to think like that. She needed a distraction.

The distraction came in the form of her building’s maintenance man. He’d come to fix the problem with her sink and had flirted outrageously. She couldn’t help but flirt back. He was easy on the eyes, with his dark brown skin, wide shoulders and slim waist. He looked like he spent time at the gym, too, and she imagined that if he took his shirt off he’d have washboard abs, but no scars marring his smooth skin. So she invited him over.

She made pasta because with her busy schedule it was always quick and easy, and she had a mean recipe for tomato sauce that was tangy and spicy, and just a little bit sweet.  They were in the middle of a bottle of wine when her phone went off.  The ring tone alerted her that it was _him_ , and her heartrate spiked as she wondered how bad it could be that he had finally called her. She excused herself from the table saying that it was the hospital and she had to take it.

“You had better be dying,” she hissed into the phone.

“Why? Did I catch you at a bad time?” She could hear the smile in his voice, and immediately felt relieved and irritated at the same time that he seemed fine enough from what little his voice could tell her.

“Yes! I have company.”

“Then send him away.”

“That would be rude!”

“Don’t you want to know whether I’m dying or not?”

 “I know you’re dying. And if you’re not you _will_ be.” She suspected that he wasn’t  really at death’s door, but she also knew that she wasn’t willing to take the risk, and as much as she might like her handsome handy man, her mind would no longer be on her date. She sighed in exasperation. “All right, give me 10 minutes. I’ll come to you.”

“I’m at my apartment.”

She hung up before he could say anything else. Then she returned to her date apologizing profusely with an excuse that an emergency had come up at the hospital, so she had to go. He seemed disappointed, but didn’t say anything. They had an awkward goodbye at her doorway, her mind on the apartment just a few blocks away as he leaned in to try to give her a goodnight kiss. But she turned her head at the last moment and his lips merely grazed her cheek. He shrugged, and walked off, and Claire wasn’t sure whether she should feel sorry or relieved.

Then she was at Matt’s door and he was opening it for her before she could even knock. He was wearing sweatpants with no shirt, and even though his nose was caked with dried blood, other than that he looked fine.

“You fucking cheeky bastard,” she cursed, but her words lacked bite. Just being in the same room with him had her heart racing, and she knew that he could hear it. He probably felt it too, sending out vibrations at a molecular level, or some shit like that.

He smiled at her, then moved to let her in. She set her medicine bag down on the bench near the door, then turned to glare at him as he closed the door. He walked past her and settled on the couch, slightly turning his head in her direction as if to beckon her.

She sighed and followed him, then sat on the coffee table in front of him. “You don’t appear to be dying, but you can always pray for some internal injuries.”

“I had to see if you would come, and I’m not sorry for it.”

“Why did you want to see if I would come? I was with someone…”

“I wanted to know if you would come, _especially_ if you were already with someone. I wanted to know if you still loved me.” His lips curled into a smile. “Now I do.”

“Love?” she scoffed. “What could possibly make you think I love you?”

“If you don’t love me, why are you here? Why did you come back?”

Claire didn’t know how to respond. She still wasn’t sure exactly why she’d come back, although she had her suspicions. And it seemed as if he had his own, and whatever he’d needed from her had confirmed them.

He leaned forward and put his hands on her legs. His eyes seemed to be fixed on her mouth, and she knew that if he wanted to press his lips against hers, she would let him, and then she would be lost. “Claire,” he breathed her name, “I tried to stay away from you. I knew you were back weeks ago—”

“How?”

“I caught a whiff of you on your route from the hospital. It was very faint, but unmistakable—”

“I’m not sure if I should be insulted. Are you saying I smell?”

He chuckled. “Everyone smells. And I happen to like your smell. It’s a mix of perfume, soap, medical gloves, and your sweat. It’s comforting. Anyway, I managed to follow it until I found your new apartment.”

“And you just what? Watched me like some stalker? That’s not fair, Matt.”

“What else was I supposed to do? I _love_ you, Claire. And it was torture watching you, but not being able to talk to you. To touch you.” He ran his hands up her legs from her knees to her waist, and possessively settled them there, daring her to pull away.

“I can’t be with you, Matt,” she responded regretfully.

“I know you believe that, but you’re wrong. And maybe I’m a selfish bastard for saying this, but I want you in my life, Claire. I need you. And not just to patch me up, but to give me something to come home to. And yes, what I do is dangerous, but you’re mistaken about why I do it. Despite my nickname, I’m not a junkie. I don’t need the danger. I thrive off of it, and it keeps my senses at their sharpest, but I do this because I have to, because if I don’t do it, the bad guys win. But if I could give it up, I would. If I could just be a lawyer and fight crime that way, I would. And you know that about me. You said so the first night we met, that you didn’t believe I was the kind of man who got enjoyment from almost killing people. And I’m not a martyr either. I’m not the city’s savior. I’m just a man trying to do his part to make this place a little better. You know that, Claire, and that’s why you love me. That’s why you promised you would always be there for me. That’s why you came back. That’s why you ditched your date to come here at the slightest chance that I was hurt and needed you.” He leaned forward even closer and lifted one hand to cup her face. “That's why you're going to let me kiss you now,” he whispered seductively, “and then pick you up and take you to my bedroom so I can make love to you.”

“Is that right?” she questioned, not resisting, but not wanting to give in completely yet.

“Yes,” he responded confidently. Then he pulled her closer and covered her mouth with his own. He slanted his mouth against hers, parting his lips in askance and was rewarded when she moaned into his kiss and opened her mouth to beckon in his tongue.

His kiss set her on fire. Her skin was overheated where he touched her, and her heart pounded in her chest. This was what she had been missing. It was what she had wanted, and it was what had brought her back. Just like he said. Damn him.

When his hand slipped underneath her top and had begun to trace the edges of her rib cage, she pulled away. “Wait,” she begged, her voice a ragged whisper.

Matt pulled away slightly, unable to mask the disappointment on his face. He could sense that she wanted him, but he could also sense that something was wrong.

“You're right. I do love you,” she admitted. “But I'm still scared. So scared that one day you won't make it to my window in time, and I'll hear on the news that the man in the mask was found dead in some back alley dumpster. And I won't even have gotten a chance to say goodbye. That would _break_ me, damn it!”

Peculiarly, Matt smiled, and Claire wanted to smack him. Here she was, pouring her heart out to him and he had the nerve to be happy about it. But then he was pulling her into his arms and onto his lap and hugging her tightly to his chest. It completely disarmed her, so she relaxed into his arms and buried her face into his neck, inhaling his scent which was a mixture of his after shave, sweat, and a bit of blood. And she knew that she belonged there in his arms.

“Thank you, Claire,” he whispered in her hair. “Thank you for loving me, even though I don’t deserve it. Even though it scares you. You are so brave.” He pulled away slightly to brush the hair from her face and gently kissed her brow. “I'm scared too. And even though I’m not afraid to die, I don’t want to. And the _last_ thing I want to do is put you in danger because of me. But I'm even more afraid not to do what I can to help. Not to be able to spend however much time I have left in this world doing something to make a difference. But I don’t think I can do it without you. And I want to spend however much time I have left in this world _with_ you. I tried to stop loving you, but I can't and I won't.”

Claire drew in a shaky breath and released it. Then squared her shoulders, willing herself to feel the courage he seemed to think she had and face her fears. Then she cupped his face in her hands, and looked into his eyes. Though they did not respond to the light, she knew he could see her in that wondrous way he saw things, and she wanted him to “see” her when she finally surrendered. “Then don’t,” she finally responded, and kissed him.  

He pulled her onto his lap and she straddled him as he deepened the kiss. His hands found themselves back at her waist pulling up her shirt, and she raised her arms over her head to help him slip the top off of her. His mouth went to the tops of her breasts exposed by the bra. He trailed tiny kisses against her skin and pushed the bra down with his thumbs, exposing her nipples. They were tight and hard with arousal, and sucking on them sent jolts of electricity through her body. She moaned loudly in his arms.

He kissed his way across her collarbone and up her neck back to her mouth which he captured for another soul-shaking kiss. Then his hands went down to her ass as he stood up with her legs wrapped around him. He kissed her thoroughly, their mouths never breaking contact even as he deftly maneuvered them into his bedroom. With one hand supporting her back, he leaned forward and placed the other one on the bed, gently setting her on the bed. When her back had made contact with the bed, he gently untwined her legs from around his waist and tugged down her jeans. She lifted her hips to help him, and he was able to pull them off completely.

She spread her legs for him, eager to have him inside her, but he had other ideas. He kissed his way up her legs from the soft skin behind her knee, along her thick thighs, until he mouth came in contact with her panties. He inhaled deeply, and the little moan he gave had to have been one of the most erotic sounds she heard. “You smell so good,” he whispered, then inhaled again. “I can’t wait to taste you. I can almost taste you now.” He darted out a tongue and licked her from the bottom of her panties to the top just where her clit was. “You’re so wet I can taste you through the cotton.”

He continued to suck her through her panties, sending shivers of delight throughout her body. Then he pushed them aside so that his tongue could come in direct contact with her hot cunt. Her hands sought his head, threading her fingers through his hair and holding him captive there as he got her off with just his tongue. He moaned enthusiastically as he sucked, and the closer and closer she got to coming, she began to curse. “Oh, fuck. Oh, damn. Shiiiiiiiiiit. Fucking hell, Matt. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” she yelled, as his tongue worked its magic on her slit. When he gently slipped one finger inside and then another, and began rubbing at just the right spot, she knew she wasn’t going to last much longer. “Oh, God, Matt! I’m going to come!  I’m coming!” she gasped as her body erupted in spasms of pleasure. Her whole body was quaking, and she felt weak with release, but very, very satisfied.

Her eyelids fluttered open when she felt Matt climb up the bed and nestle himself between her legs, the very heat of him coming in contact with her sensitive core. He was smiling, as if pleased with himself, and it was well-earned. She wrapped her legs around his waist again, pulling him even closer. He lowered his head to her mouth again to kiss her, and she could taste herself on his lips, slightly acrid and yet sweet. She reached down between them and snuck her hand in between the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers to tug gently at his member. He was erect and ready for her, a bit of pre-cum moistening the head. She stroked him a couple of times, then abandoned it to push down his pants until his manhood sprang free. He leaned over to pull something from the drawer next to his bed, and she saw it was a condom. She heard the crinkle of plastic as he ripped it from its wrapper. He placed it at the tip of his penis and was about to roll it all the way down his shaft, when she stopped with her hand. “Let me,” she requested. Then she sat up, and pushed him back down the bed so she could take his cock into her mouth. Then carefully with her lips she pushed the condom down, and sucked forcefully. He groaned encouragingly, and she sucked and stroked him simultaneously to his gratified moans. She worked her tongue and throat to take him as deeply as she could, then would withdraw slowly to swirl her tongue around the head, the go back down again until his hands were tugging her head up.

“No more,” he gasped. “I want to be inside you,” he gasped and she sat up to accommodate him. She straddled him, and then directed his cock to the entrance of her pussy and slowly sat down on him, as he pushed upward until he was fully embedded inside her. She threw her head back with the pleasure and began to ride him, circling her hips with his upward thrusts. They found a rhythm that was slightly manic with their need for each other. His hands were on her hips, then her breasts, then he was leaning up to kiss them, then her neck, and then he buried his hands in her hair and kissed her mouth, tongue stroking her lips and mouth almost in time to the stroke of his hips. He was as good at fucking as he was at fighting, he knew exactly where to touch her, how to make her moan, and shake, and cry out with bliss, as if he could read her, and he probably could in that magical way of his. “Fucking-god-daaaaaaaaaaamn!” she cried out, and then she came again, explosions of pleasure rocking her body and leaving her feeling like a limp worn-out ragdoll.

Matt chuckled into the crook of her neck. “You’ve got the dirtiest mouth of any woman I’ve ever met. You really shouldn’t say the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Says the man fornicating with me.” She smiled, then squeezed his cock tighter with the muscles in her vagina, causing him to gasp.

“I’ll ask for forgiveness in my next confession. In the meantime,” he added, pushing her down into the bed so that he could enter her from on top, “I’m going to make the most of my sin as much as I can.” He lowered his lips to hers to capture her mouth in another hungry kiss, and continued to make love to her roughly and yet tenderly. It was like he wanted to claim not only her body, but her soul, and there was no part of her that didn’t want to let him. She was his. Completely. She knew it in the way that he touched her so reverently and without guile. And she also knew that he was as much hers as she was herself, that she could trust him with her mind, body, and heart because he trusted her with his. She was in love with him, and he loved her, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
